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  • Writer's pictureCloud Ink

gone

Updated: Mar 10, 2023










His hometown has its own sort of cold

Tendrils of her hair beneath his cheek, like red silk,

asleep as he goes


Pale grasses and snow

glow on the edges of a blurred road

The horizon cinches in on

craggy rocks and hills

A sky that’s empty


A lone hawk hunts nearby

Another rests on an abandoned fencepost

Eyes open

Glittering


Layers of frost

coat hay bails

chipped letterboxes won’t keep mail dry


She’ll know now

that he’s gone



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